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SEELEY W. MUDD

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GEORGE I. COCHRAN MEYER ELSASSER

DR. JOHN R. HAYNES WILLIAM L. HONNOLD

JAMES R. MARTIN MRS. JOSEPH F. SARTORI

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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

SOUTHERN BRANCH

JOHN FISKE

STUDIES IN MEDIEVAL AND MODERN HISTORY

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AN OLD-FASHIONEU CIDER-MILL.

Studies in Medieval and Modern History

BY

FRANKLIN H. HEAD

Magna est Veritas et prevalebit

The inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it; the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it; and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it — is the sovereign good of human nature

— FRANCIS BACON

CHICAGO PRIVATELY PRINTED

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CONTENTS

PAGE

I. Dante's Boodling, and its Influ-

j ENCE UPON HIS WoRK, . .

11. Some Methods of Browning, as Illustrated by the Poem of Ivan Ivanovitch, . . . . 57

III. Lines to Lake Geneva, ... 77

IV. Address Delivered at the Un-

veiling OF the Haymarket Monument, 85

•H.

DANTE'S BOODLING, AND ITS IN- FLUENCE UPON HIS WORK

DANTE'S BOODLING, AND ITS IN- FLUENCE UPON HIS WORK

In the ranks of the great poets, three men stand conspicuous and alone. With their heads among the stars, to their serene and lonely height no others may venture to climb. By the most enduring and final of tests, a constant- ly growing appreciation of their work, centuries after their times and ages have passed away, Homer, Shakespeare and Dante seem assured of a world-embracing and undying fame.

No three men can be named more utterly un- like. Each, in a large measure, was the product of his age and of his environment, acting upon a genius, heaven-born, which once perhaps in a millennium is sent among men.

Homer, whom Dante characterizes as

"The monarch of sublimest thought Who, o'er the others like an eagle sails," 9

sings to us of the far-away childhood of the race. His men and women are people of simple mo- tives, simple theories of life and narrow experi- ences. The gods of the mountains, the streams, and the forests, dowered with all human powers and weaknesses, were as real as Helen or Aga- memnon or the white-armed Nausicaa. An un- usual dream was as the voice of God, and the flight of a flock of birds might change the des- tiny of a nation. Diplomacy in its modern sense was unknown, and the thoughts, motives, and passions of the men of his age are more open to us than those of our everyday neigh- bors.

Shakespeare gives us not alone a graphic pic- ture of the age of Elizabeth, but an embodiment of all the wisdom which had survived from all the foregone ages. Every human passion found in all sorts and conditions of men is to him as an open book. He holds the mirror up to all the variant moods of nature. He is the supreme poet of humanity. He is the master of language, which, to him, is plastic as clay in the potter's hands. At his bidding, it sings soft and sweet

II

as the harp of ^olus, or is marshaled in periods resonant as the Psalms of David, or majestic as the voice of the multitudinous sea.

Dante occupies a much narrower field. While the writings of Shakespeare and Homer are lucid and easily understood, his are pervaded by the vague, mysterious, and incomprehensible meta- physics and the subtle scholasticisms of his age. His admirers find in many passages of his writ- ings the double and concealed meanings, which the Browning students of our day find in Bor- dello. While for his time he had traveled wide- ly and had met the scholars and poets of civilized Europe, yet such intercourse seems in a general way to have but little broadened his horizon, and for him the little commune of Florence was his world. For this reason, his general scheme of the life after death, as set forth in the Divine Comedy, would not be for a moment tolerated in our days of the geographical distribution of official patronage. To the people of Florence, a town no larger than Burlington or Milwaukee, he assigns nearly all the prominent positions in Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. He preached the

12

gospel of immeasurable and infinite hate, as well as of exquisite and undying love. But he illu- mines the pages of the Divine Comedy with the white light of perhaps the most exquisite poetic fancy yet vouchsafed to man. He pillories all grades of evil-doers with a pen which holds them up to the execration of men through all the ages. But amid all the horrors of the In- ferno, through its chorus of hopeless shrieks and groans of never-ending agony, through the fear- ful but not hopeless sorrows of Purgatory, through Limbo, where without hope, they ever live in longing, forever dying but never dead, as well as through the shining abodes of the blest, he walks, tranquil and serene, and scatters the flowers of an imagination at once chastened and sublime through all the stages of his won- derful journey. Amidst the vivid pictures of a class of sinners, smoking in pockets of redhot rock, amidst another class, writhing in the em- brace of poisonous serpents, biting and bitten, men shrinking into snakes, and snakes expand- ing into men, gleams some enchanting sentence, brightening the scenes of immeasurable horror

13

with that ideal light which never was on sea or land. His outgrown theology, everywhere con- spicuous, is that of a bygone and buried age, but despite this perishing of what he considered the foundation and framework of his mighty drama, the artist in this monarch in the poets' realm still assures him wide and loving audience. He was the founder of Italian literature. He was on more familiar terms with Heaven than any of his predecessors, and in an age when the problems of a future life, by reason of the priest- hood including the great bulk of educated men, were vastly more discussed than mere temporali- ties, and in considering these problems, the thought and speech of men dwelt especially upon the punishments of the future life: less upon the happiness to be gained than upon the torments to be escaped beyond the veil, his selection of a theme and his treatment of it were entirely natural.

Dante was one of the early instances of the scholar in politics. He was a man of wide and profound learning, and lived in Florence at a period of wonderful artistic and literary activ-

14

ity. Poets sung in her palaces, and artists garnished her cathedrals. The politics of Flor- ence, to a student of our day, is an inscrutable mystery. By a careful reading of the various histories of Florence, a larger stock of misin- formation can be accumulated than by any other method. Voltaire says, " All parties loved lib- erty and did their best to destroy her." We become familiar with the names of the Guelfs, the Ghibbelines, the Bianchi, and the Neri. Florence prided herself on being an indepen- dent city, but recognized the right, either of the Pope or the German Emperor, to act with authority as an arbitrator in case of internal dissensions. As a general rule, the Guelfs and Bianchi preferred the authority of the Pope, while the Ghibbelines and Neri chose that of the German Emperor. Yet, as circumstances changed, each of these parties is to be found on either side of every possible political question. In early life Dante was a Guelf, and as such rose to political preferment. His love for Flor- ence was one of the intensest passions of his life, yet after his banishment, he united with

15 the exiled imperialists in urging the German Emperor to attack and conquer the city. Their clamor was, Let Florence perish, let her treasures be destroyed, let the Arno flow onward to the sea, red with the costliest blood of the land, so that her exiles may again dwell within her walls.

In Florence itself, both during, before, and after the age of Dante, there raged between the different parties an incessant strife, which seems the absolute summit of unreason. As the bal- ance of power changed, the prominent members of the defeated party were occasionally exe- cuted or exiled, and their property confiscated. From the standpoint of to-day, this perpetual warfare appears as causeless as would be a war between red-haired and black-haired men, or the denizens of one side of a street against those of the other side. Despite, however, this endless turmoil, upon one point all were agreed, their love for, and devotion to their beloved Florence. While daily contests made the streets perilous to the passer-by, and the houses of leaders out of power were torn down by mobs.

i6

the work upon the cathedral of San Giovanni went steadily on, and all parties united in heap- ing honors upon the artists, architects, and men of letters, whose names and work make the age illustrious. From contemporaneous histories, it would appear that, as soon as the army of skilled artisans and artists had completed their twelve-hour day's work upon the cathedral of Saint John, the Duomo, or the Campanile, they went, to a man, upon the warpath against whomever they met upon the streets, and killed or were killed, maimed or crippled, until the dawn of another divine Italian morning, when those who survived again resumed their labors, striving with a love and civic devotion, which knew no bounds or parallel, that Florence might be the center and soul of the world's artistic life.

Amid such surroundings, Dante was born and educated, and became a partisan in city politics, and after having successfully managed certain of its affairs of a diplomatic nature, was ulti- mately made one of the six Priors who gov- erned the city. These six Priors had virtually

I?

the entire management of its affairs, even more so than the boards of aldermen of modern times, since no mayor had the veto power over their decisions. He was of the Guelf faction, and a subsequent election having resulted in the triumph of the Ghibbelines, he was relegated to private life. The story of his banishment soon after is familiar to all, and is usually considered a purely political act. Byron's lines in "Childe Harold" represent, doubtless, the usual opinion upon the matter.

*' Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar Like Scipio, buried bj the upbraiding shore; Thy factions, in their worse than civil war, Proscribed the bard whose name forevermore Their children's children would in vain adore, With the remorse of ages; and the crown. Which Petrarch's laureate brow supremely wore, Upon a far and foreign soil had grown, His life, his fame, his grave, though rifled, not thine own.

And Santa Croche wants their mighty dust, Yet for this want more noted, as of yore. Than Caesar's pageant, shorn of Brutus's bust, Did but of Rome's best son remind her more:

i8

Happier Ravenna! On thj hoary shore, Fortress of falling empire! honored sleeps The immortal exile. Arqua, too, her store Of tuneful relics proudlv claims and keeps, While Florence vainly begs her banished dead and weeps."

I have recently made a careful study of the documentary evidence in the indictment and trial of Dante, resulting in his banishment, which indicates that other than political offenses were charged against him. The painstaking efforts of the students of Dante have unearthed many points of interest in his career, and the quotations which follow, from the documents bearing upon his exile, are taken from the pub- lications of the German and American Dante societies. The documents are in a somewhat barbarous Latin tongue, translations from which I give. The first decree is dated in January, 1302. Others beside Dante are embraced in its provisions. I give the parts which bear spe- cifically upon the poet.

The decree is very voluminous, exceeding in legal verbiage almost any similar document of

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our own time, and condemns to fine and ban- ishment five persons. The first part of the decree, after the formal opening, imposes sen- tences separately upon one Gherardino, and may, therefore, be omitted. The decree con- siderably condensed, is as follows:

In the name of the Lord, Amen. This is the decree or condemning sen- tence lately made and promulgated by the noble and powerful Lord Cante de Gabrielle de Eugebio, honorable Podesta of the City of Florence, upon the ex- cesses and crimes written below against the men and persons also mentioned. According to the investigations of the discreet and sapient Lord Paulus de Eugebio, Judge to the Lord Podesta, appointed to the office over barratry, un- just extortions and illicit lucre, and by the will and counsel of other judges of the same Podesta, and written down by me, Bonora de Pregio, notary and offi- cial to the aforesaid Lord Podesta, and of the Commonwealth of Florence to the same office duly appointed. In the cur- rent year of our Lord, 1302, Roman In- diction XV, his holiness Pope Boniface VIII, reigning. We, Cante Podesta, as stated above, publish the condemning sentences in manner following:

Against Lord Palermius de Alovetis, Dante Alleghieri, Lippo Bacchus, and Orlanduccio Orlandi, against whom has been had the inquisi- tion of our own office upon information which has come to our ears, and to the knowledge of our Court, and also through public report, whether these people were in the office of Prior, or otherwise, prov- ing that these people had been guilty of bribery, of receiving illicit lucre and of exorbitant extortions in money, or in goods, either by themselves, or through other parties, in the matter of the elec- tion of Priors in the Commune of Flor- ence, or for the passing of ordinances, or for concessions sought to be obtained, and for obtaining from the Treasury of Florence, above what is allowed by the ordinances of the Commonwealth. Also because they had been guilty of fraud, and of receiving bribes in affairs relating to the Sovereign Pontiff, to the arrival of King Charles, and to the House of Guelfs, and had plotted for the expul- sion from the state of Pistori of those called Nigri, faithful followers of the Holy Roman Church, and for the sever- ing of the compact between said state and the Commune of Florence.

Therefore, Lord Palermius, Dante, Orlanduccio, and Lippo, having been

legally cited and required through the nuncio of the State of Florence, that within a certain time, now elapsed, they should appear before us and our Court, for the purpose of defending and excul- pating themselves from the inquisition set forth, and they not having appeared, but the rather suffered themselves to be put in ban of the Commonwealth, each has been fined by Duccio Francisci, Pub- lic Finer, in the sum of 5,000 small gold florins, which fine they have incurred by absenting themselves contumaciously, all of which appears in extenso in the records of our Court.

Be it, therefore, ordained, that each of the parties named being proved guilty, in order that they may receive the fruit of the harvest sown, according to the quality of the seed, and may have retri- bution according to their deserts, we do by these writings sententially condemn in 5,000 small gold florins by weight for each, to be paid to the Treasury of the State of Florence, and farther that they restor-e the things illegally extorted to those legally proving it. And that, if they do not pay the amounts within the third day from this sentence, the goods of any one not paying shall be confis- cated and destroyed and remain in the State. And if they pay the aforesaid condemnation, either themselves or by

22

Others, not the less shall any one so pay- ing remain without the Province of Tus- cany for two years. And in order that the memory of the crimes of Palermius, Dante, Lippo and Orlanduccio be per- petual, it is decreed that their names be inscribed in the records of the people of Florence as forgers, falsifiers, barrators and impostors, and that never hereafter can any of them hold office of trust or receive any privileges from the Common- wealth of Florence, the fine being paid or not. *

This decree was made in January, 1302. In the month of March following another decree issued from the same Court, which is in sub- stance much like the first, but which, after re- citing that Dante, with others, had, upon suffi- cient evidence, been found guilty of barratry, bribery, extortions, and of receiving illicit lucre, and having been fined and the fine not having been paid, and that Dante, with others, having been silent as to the crimes charged, and there- fore having virtually confessed his guilt, there- fore the Court, by additional decree, adjudges that should he ever again appear within the ter-

*See Appendix.

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ritory of the Commonwealth of Florence, he shall be consumed by fire until he die.*

In the year 131 1, nine years after the first sentence, the German Emperor was marching toward Italy with a large army, and as he had been continually appealed to by the different warring factions in Florence to settle their end- less quarrels, he issued an order that an amnesty be granted to all persons exiled by either party, and the Florentines, fearful of an attack upon their city in case of disobedience, granted par- don to the most of the exiles, but made an ex- ception in the case of Dante, and some few others by name, on the ground that their crimes against the Commonwealth were considered too great for condonation.

In 1315, thirteen years after the first sentence, Dante having petitioned, as often before, for the privilege of returning to the city, the authorities issued another decree, in which it was ordered that, in view of his many evil deeds against the Commonwealth, in case he should ever return to

♦See Appendix.

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the city, he should be at once taken to the place of justice and there beheaded.

This, so far as I have been able to ascertain, is the last official utterance by the authorities of Florence, and, as is well known, he never re- turned to the city.

It will be recalled that in the first decree, it is stated that the evidence upon which the con- viction of the crimes charged was based appears in extenso upon the records of the Court. Such records, however, have never been discovered in Florence by the many Dante commentators, and only a part of such evidence can thus far be found at all. The only light upon the detailed charges and evidence against Dante may be found in certain documents in the Vatican library, and these are evidently fragmentary. As appears by these papers, one of the witnesses testifying was one Michel Mol'loni. His evi- dence in substance was that he was the proprie- tor of a wine store in the district of Saint Peter the Great, where Dante resided; that his wine rooms were a place of great resort, and among the frequenters was Dante; that many of his

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poorer patrons owed him money, which, with his deeds of charity to the poor upon Christmas and other chief holidays of the Church, made him a man of wide influence in the politics of Florence; that in the year A.D. 1300, Dante told him that he had been urged by his friends to allow the use of his name as a candidate for the office of Prior; that, upon such urging, he had a desire to be chosen as one of the six Priors of Florence, and asked his (Mol'loni's) influence to obtain such office, promising him a substan- tial reward in case of his election; that the wit- ness so used his influence, which, with some money furnished by Dante and the family of his wife, greatly aided in his election; that Dante being thus elected, he (Mol'loni) called upon him for his promised reward, and Dante directed witness to put in a bid for certain quantities of marble needed for the Cathedral or Baptistry of San Giovanni, at a price named by Dante, which was nearly double the price offered by other bid- ders; that Dante so managed matters, that wit- ness was awarded the contract, the lower bids being rejected for informality or unsatisfactory

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quality of the marble, although the marble was the same offered by the witness; that witness furnished such marble, making a profit thereon of 17,000 florins, one-half of which he paid to Dante, as by their agreement.

Another witness was Alberti Ristori, who testi- fied that for many years he had farmed the taxes of six districts of Florence and had been author- ized by the various Boards of Priors to receive for his services and for advancing money when needed, ten per cent, to be collected by him above the amount assessed by the officers of the Commonwealth; that soon after the election of Dante to the Priorate, he sent for witness and told him that the six districts of Florence here- tofore farmed by him were controlled by said Dante, and he was authorized by said Dante to add fifteen per cent instead of ten per cent to the tax levy, which he did, thereby making an extra profit of 12,000 florins, one-half of which he gave to Dante.

Another witness was Gherardinum Diodati, who testified that he was a plasterer by trade; that he was introduced to Dante by Michel Mol'-

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loni, and that he plastered much of the interior of the Baptistry during the Priorate of Dante; that he was to be paid two florins per square braccio for finished work, and that he plastered 1,200 square braccia by actual measurement, but that, by direction of Dante, he made a claim for 2,015 square braccia, which claim was audited and allowed by said Dante, whereby witness re- ceived 1,630 florins in excess of his just due, 1,000 florins of which he gave Dante and Mol'- loni, as was arranged between them.

Another witness was Lapum Ammuniti, who testified that he had a contract for filling a cer- tain tract of marshy land adjoining the river Arno to the height of six braccia, to make it safe from floods and suitable for habitations; that he was to be paid one florin per cubic braccio for such filling by a contract made be- fore the Priorate of Dante; that his work was finished and the work paid for during Dante's term of office; that he was entitled to be paid for 11,890 cubic braccia of filling, but that, at Dante's request, he made a claim for 19,890 cubic braccia, which was certified as correct by

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Dante, whereby witness received an excess of 8,000 florins, one-half of which he gave to Dante, as had been agreed.

Another witness was Gregorius Del Sarto, who testified that he had a contract for the excava- tion of the large main sewer of the city of Flor- ence at a certain price per cubic braccio for dirt or gravel, and a certain price, six times as great, where the excavation was in rock; that his work was finished during the Priorate of Dante; that in the whole excavation but 1,100 cubic braccia of rock-work was encountered; that, at the request of Dante and Michel Mol'loni, he presented no claim for his work until it was entirely com- pleted and covered in so that it would be diffi- cult to measure the part cut in the rock; that, when this was done at Dante's request, he made a claim for 2,900 cubic braccia of rock-work, and received therefor, his claim having been audited and approved by Dante, as Prior, the sum of 21,600 florins in excess of what was his just due, 7,000 florins of which was received by Dante as his share, as agreed between them — and an equal amount by Mol'loni.

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Each of the witnesses quoted stated, in his own justification, that Dante had told him that he, Dante, was not a rich man; that he desired to do great things for Florence, in the way of beautiful buildings and gifts to the poor, and that this was the method by which he wished to provide himself with money for the beautifying of his beloved Florence.

The Vatican manuscripts indicate that there were four other witnesses examined, but the manuscripts are so defaced as to be in parts wholly illegible and no connected meaning can be drawn from them. Detached words, how- ever, indicate that, in one case, the witness had paid to Dante money for a certain franchise as to some method of river transportation, and in the case of another witness, that he had paid money for a monopoly of selling within the city limits the olive oil from the surrounding country.

In making up our judgment as to the guilt or innocence of Dante, from the decrees and testimony offered, we are handicapped by the fact that we have heard the evidence in but one side of the case, but there seems to be no evi-

3° dence from contemporaneous records that Dante ever denied his guilt or endeavored to prove his innocence. Another fact seems to confirm the presumption of his guilt: he lived in a time of marvelous artistic and literary activity in Flor- ence. The people, while split into factions and constantly warring among themselves, were a unit in their enthusiastic devotion to their artists and men of letters. At the date of Dante's ban- ishment, he had written and circulated the " Vita Nuova," a work of promise rather than in itself of permanent value, but long before the last decree of 131 5, condemning him to death by beheading in the place of justice, in case he ever again entered the city of Florence, he had written and circulated a large part of the Divine Comedy, and was widely recognized as the greatest of Italian poets — as the man who would make illustrious his nation and his age. When this is considered in connection with the fact that seemingly every Florentine hastened to do homage to all those whose life and works would add to the prestige and glory of Florence, it seems incredible that his life-long exile was

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based upon simply political reasons. For some reason, perhaps now accurately undiscoverable, the poet seems to have earned the execration of the people of his native city of all political par- ties, since each of the principal factions was in power during his exile — and this makes possible the belief that his malfeasances in office were the ground of his permanent exile.

The testimony of the witness, Michel Mol'- loni, the proprietor of the wine house which was a center of political influence, whose evidence I first quoted, and who figures also in the testi- mony of others, indicates that six hundred years ago, as in our own time, a potent factor in city affairs was the saloon in politics. The name Mol'loni has the appearance of an Italian name, but accidentally placing the accent on the mid- dle syllable instead of the first gave it such an Hibernian sound, that I was tempted to an in- vestigation, which made clear the fact that he was a native of the Emerald Isle, originally bap- tized as Michael Maloney. He was born in Limerick, of poor but Irish parents, ran away while young and went to sea, and after sundry

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vicissitudes of fortune, located in Florence, be- came a power in politics, and may have been perhaps the inciter of Dante's fall from grace. A reference to our own age again emphasizes the maxim, " History repeats itself."

II

Assuming now that Dante was guilty of the crimes charged against him, it would seem a pertinent inquiry: in what way the entire change, which came over his fortunes after his banishment, affected his literary career. He was early in- clined to the profession of letters, the "Vita Nuova " being issued in his twenty-fifth year. It is of value as illustrating the early period of his mental development, and the starting point of his subsequent growth, but it is the immature work of an unpracticed hand. Had he written nothing more, it would have scarcely survived his century, as it has little in matter or manner to distinguish it from the short-lived work of his contemporaries. It combines much of gen- uine sentiment with much mystical follv; it

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dilates upon love in the chivalric and conven- tional mode of his day; is pathetic in its youth- ful foolishness and poetic, dreamy extravagances. It illustrates that the passion of love, while soft- ening the heart, sometimes similarly affects the brain.

Prior to his banishment, Dante appears to have been a genial, companionable and scholarly gentleman, according to the standpoint of his period, with literary tendencies in accord with the tastes and standards of an artificial and Quixotic age. He was popular with his towns- men, as is evidenced by his elevation to munici- pal office, and to his occasional selection for work of a diplomatic character among the neigh- boring petty commonwealths. He seems to have felt that his world was a pleasant one in which to live; that his surroundings were to his mind, and to have looked forward to a life of dignified ease, at peace with all men. No trace of his vivid descriptive power, or the intense bitterness toward those differing with himself is found in the period before his exile. In a way, for all his life he was a poetic dreamer, in early

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life his dreams were of the Vita Nuova, in his later life, the fearsome visions of the Sacred Comedy. The beginning of his exile is the beginning of his great career. He traveled over many- lands, studying for the work of his life, not alone the fierce and evil passions and acts of men, with the poet's sweetness turned to fiery scorn- ing, but, too, with the poet's eye and the poet's power, seeing among all the scenes of his wan- dering the beauties of nature. In the Apen- nines he recognized the rafters of Italy. He saw the beavers' ways in the streams of Germany. He studied the shape of the bubbles on the boil- ing tar, for the calking of ships, in the arsenals of Venice, and reproduced them in one of the fissures of Malebolge, where a certain class of sinners were immersed in boiling pitch, while the devils tore their bodies if any part appeared above the surface. He heard the music of the spheres as he watched the stars in their stately courses. He heard the leaves of the trees, played upon by the wandering breezes, sing their accompaniment to the songs of birds. Nothing great or small escaped his intense and

35

concentrated vision, and his garnerings are pre- served in the Divine Comedy, "safe against the wash and wear of the ages." Trifling incidents in the lives of insignificant persons, passed out of human importance for six centuries, are alive and cannot perish, from their mere momentary connection with the thought of this one man.

As his period of exile lengthened he left behind him, with one exception — the supremacy of the passion of human love — the ideals of his dream- ing youth, and girded himself for his mighty and slowly-maturing plan of unfolding to men the methods of the Power in whose hands are the ^issues of life and death and immortality. Had his life been one of tranquil ease, had he never experienced toward himself what he deemed the base ingratitude and evil passions of men, the Divine Comedy might never have seen the light. The work to which he had vowed himself in his dreaming youth, that he would say of Beatrice what had never been said of any woman, might have given us Beatrice among the angels in Paradise, without the cantos of Hell and Purgatory.

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While it is true that Dante, although nine- teen years an exile, was ever homesick and long- ing for his beloved Florence, yet his travels and his mingling with men, in certain lines, greatly broadened his views. In early life he was natu- rally a Roman Catholic, and so remained, yet he was perhaps the first advocate for the absolute separation of the Church and State. He wished to see Italy consolidated into one powerful king- dom, with its capitol at Rome, and the Pope, with his residence also at Rome, simply the head of the Church, a change which it required nearly six centuries to bring about. He also came to recognize the wickedness of sundry Popes in their management of temporal affairs, and located them in some of the least desirable circles of Hell. He also disputed the dogma then held almost universally, that all pagans were doomed to eternal death, even if living blameless lives and in total ignorance of the very existence of Christ. His utterances on this point are far in advance of his age. He says, as translated by Longfellow:

37

" For saidst thou, Born a man is on the shore Of Indus, and is none who there can speak Of Christ, nor who can read nor who can write: And all his inclinations and his actions Are good as far as Human reason sees, Without a sin in life or in discourse. He dieth unbaptized and without faith: Where is this justice that condemneth him? Where is his fault if he doth not believe? Now who art thou that on the bench would sit In judgment at a thousand miles away, With the short vision of a single span?"

Again he says:

" But look thou — many crying are Christ, Christ, Who at the judgment shall be far less near To him than some shall be who know not Christ. Such Christians shall the Ethiop condemn, When the two companies shall be divided, The one forever rich, the other poor."

These and other passages indicate that upon the poet's vision had dawned the sublime con- viction that in the Father's house are many mansions.

At about the age of twenty-six years he was married to Gemma Donati, a woman of social position superior to his own, and of whom his

38

contemporaries have to say naught but words of kindness and praise. The marriage was appar- ently a happy one and seven children were born to them. From the date of the decree which banished him and confiscated his property in Florence, we know of no communication between him and his loyal wife. If from his position as Prior he had harvested illicit gains, he must have carried them away, as Boccaccio and others of her contemporaries speak of the poverty of his wife and her weary struggles to support her- self and her seven children, but amid all, with no thoughts or words save of love for her absent lord. By her life and work she seems to have said to him:

" Go forth, go upward and onward, my great, noble and heroic husband; from the trifles which escaped confiscation, from occasional slight help from my fam- ily, and from what I can earn by taking in washing, I will manage to care for my- self and our seven children, while you, with your head among the stars, with your mighty poetic spirit communing with itself of the problems of human des-

39

tiny, shall picture to all coming ages the divine beauty, the womanly perfections, the angelic graces, and the celestial bles- sedness of Beatrice, wearing upon her bosom the pure white rose of a blameless life, and dwelling and ruling forever in the very city of our God."

From what has been said, we may fairly con- clude, therefore, that to the boodling of Dante and his consequent exile, we owe his master- piece of poetic effort, one of the greatest heir- looms of mankind. ;He embarked upon the work with two ideas especially before him: one to set forth the punishments of all the wicked, and in this class he places all opposing himself, and the other, to say of Beatrice, the ideal of his dreaming youth, whose name he would make to dwell lovingly and forever on the tongues of men, what had never yet been said of any woman. Upon the point first had in view by Dante, his ideas of punishment for sin were substantially those of the theology of his age. He classified sinners with a minuteness never before attempted, and sought, doubtless honestly, to make the

40

punishment fit the crime. In the character of these punishments, he shows a fiendish brutality, unequaled among any savages of whom history makes mention, and this, too, as he explains, upon the behest of the God of infinite mercy, and in evidence of His love for man. Over the portals of Hell he inscribes the words,

"Justice the founder of my fabric moved. To rear me was the task of power divine, Supremest wisdom and primeval love."

He was a magnificent hater. He rejoices in the endless torments of his enemies. He asks Virgil, his guide, to have Philip Argenti plunged into the loathsome current of the Styx, and when it is done, thanks God for the pleasure of the view, and tells the wretched sufferer of his rejoicings at his torment. He sees Bocca's head partly projecting above the ice in which he is frozen, and kicks it and tears handfuls of hair from his bleeding scalp, and glories in the act. He rejoices when he sees certain sinners bitten and strangled by poisonous serpents, and others torn and bleeding from the bites of ferocious dogs, and still others permanently frozen or

41

roasted, by which their agonies are promoted. He is jubilant at the decrees which condemn uncounted myriads forever

"To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice."

But amid all these terrific pictures, the artist and poet is ever present and supreme. His views of the horrors of the Inferno are set forth in lines and phrases of transcendent and eternal beauty, and its blackest depths illumined by the clear light of his exquisite fancy. Even, too, in the Inferno, is seen one trace of his reverence for the passion of human love, told in the digres- sion embodying the story of Francesca De Rimini, whom, with her lover, Paoli, he sees

" Imprisoned in the viewless wind, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant globe."

His sense of justice would not allow him to overlook or excuse her crime, and she is placed in hopeless sorrow, but in one of the highest and most endurable circles of the Inferno and in the constant society of the only man she ever loved. How her piteous story biased Dante is

42

seen when he puts approvingly on her lips the final word, as to herself, her lover, and her hus- band who had murdered both:

"Love brought us to one death — Caina waits The soul who spilt our life;"

Caina being one of the lower and most terrible circles of the infernal pit. This story is told by the poet in words of such exquisite beauty and tenderness that it is known of all the world, and gentle eyes have never ceased to weep over the piteous tragedy of Francesca's life and love and death.

There is one notable difference between Dante and the two other supreme poets. Homer no- where in his writings reveals his personality. His style is his own, but of his tastes, his sur- roundings and his loves or hates, we know nothing. Outside the sonnets, the same is true of Shakespeare. But Dante is everywhere in evidence. Scarcely a page of the Divine Com- edy but gives us a view of some phase of his unique personality. His exile had filled him with bitterness toward those who opposed him; he had reflected deeply upon the woes of Flor-

43

ence and Italy; upon the mismanagement of the State; upon the corruption and weakness of its public men, and as he recognized himself the sole official topographer of the Medieval Hell, he meted out justice, according to his own standard, to all weak and wicked men. Upon his personal enemies he wreaked exemplary vengeance. In one notable instance he did not even await the death of the sinner before locat- ing him in what he considered his proper envi- ronment. Pope Boniface VIII was believed by Dante to have been in some measure responsible for his exile, as well as an embezzler of the funds of the Church, and Dante provided a place for his suitable reception as soon as he should pass without this earthly life. A pocket was awaiting him, about the size of his person, in the redhot rock, and here he was to stand upon his head through the eternal ages, his blazing feet pro- jecting above the pocket and aiding to make luminous the lurid atmosphere of Hell.

Dante's Hell is not an original creation, but a composite picture, gathered from the theologies of all ages and races, largely from ancient Jew-

44

ish traditions, from the pagan poets and from the legends of Germany. Its fiends and devils, its inhabitants, its climate and its somber hor- rors, are reduced to order by the poet, who sup- plemented from his own teeming brain whatever it had before lacked in temperature and variety of torment.

The second point had in mind by the poet, after having provided for the punishment of the wicked and his personal vengeance on his ene- mies, may be styled the apotheosis of Beatrice, and through her, of womankind. His work in this field may also, with much plausibility, be claimed as a result of his illicit lucre and conse- quent banishment. Beatrice died when the poet was about twenty-four years of age. Soon after her death, he was married and seems to have lived happily with his family, to have prospered in his ambitions, and to have led a contented life for nearly a dozen years. His early vow to say great words of Beatrice seems to have been forgotten. But in his lonely exile, his mind reverted with more than its youthful devotion to his early love. While he had never touched her

45 hand, or heard her voice, she was to him hence- forth the guide of his feet and the light of his life. She alone survived from the bright illu- sions of his dreaming youth. When all things else were powerless to console, this ideal of his youth and this memory of his maturity arose be- fore him to cheer and strengthen for the work of his life. He endows her with beauty, purity, strength, and all the attributes of an ideal and perfect womanhood, magnified and emphasized by her abode in the heavenly life. He places her in the Rose of the Blessed, and with the most exalted ones of the heavenly state, having power over angels and archangels, ruling by the love which casts out fear, yet evermore a woman. Knowing all things, she realized Dante's love; at the beginning of his marvelous journey, she gives him Virgil as his guide, and thus guards him through the horrors of Hell and Purgatory, triumphant over fiends and devils by her made powerless to do him harm. At the gateway of Paradise she meets him, and together they view the immeasurable splendors of the abode of the blest. He places her far above any man in

46

power and dignity in Paradise, thus avowing his belief in the higher purity and spirituality of woman and making all womankind his debtor. He quotes as descriptive of her from the Wis- dom of Solomon: "She is the brightness of the eternal light, the unspotted mirror of the majesty of God." Lowell, in referring to Dante's characterization of Beatrice, says: "She shifts from a woman, real, loved and lost, to a gracious exhalation of ,all that is fairest in womanhood or most divine in the soul of man." Well and nobly has Dante redeemed his vow, recorded in the closing pages of the Vita Nuova, that he would say of Beatrice what had never yet been said of any woman.

Ill

To the past we must look for guidance and for hope as to the present and the future. Dante, young, honest, pure, and at home, was the writer of love sonnets, graceful, conven- tional, trite, and of but modest merit. Dante, the boodler and exile, was the author of the one

47 poem of supreme merit between Homer and Shakespeare — the one great master for two thousand years. Can we derive from this fact aught of consolation and of hope for American letters? Can we see from what surroundings, from what experiences, from what fiery trials shall be born our man who shall rank unchal- lenged among the immortals? Who shall sing of our age with the simplicity and power of Homer, with the sweetness and fierce sublimity of Dante, with the broad humanity of Shakespeare? Of one factor we are assured: our boodlers are unsurpassed. Some, too, have been tempo- rarily exiled, but thus far without results in the world of literary art. Tweed, in comparison with whose boodling Dante was as a little child, was temporarily an exile, but the comity of nations returned him to his native land, and he died with his songs unsung, with the epic of the cen- tury unwritten. Chicago, the city of our love and pride, has banished some few of her bood- lers to Joliet, but thus far no poetic melodies have been wafted back to us from the city of limestone and the Drainage Canal.

48

Our assortment of unbanished boodlers is large and varied, but who of thera has given to us the preliminary dainty volumes of love and pathetic longing, as the Vita Nuova in the case of Dante, which might be as stepping-stones to higher things? Who has seen a volume, "Bu- colics of Chickens and Turkeys," by Powers? or " Lyrics of Tunnels and the Levee," by Hop- kins? or "Ballads of Railroad Upholding," by Madden? or "Madrigals of the Franchise," by Cullerton? or "Dewdrops and Bubbles from the Bath House," by Coughlin? or "Poems of Pas- sion," by Yerkes?

But we live not as those without hope. We are young. Art is long.

APPENDIX

The opening sentences of the decree of Janu- ary 27, 1302, are as follows :

" In nomine Domini, amen.

Hec sunt condempnationes sive condempnationum sententie, facte late et promulgate per nobilem et potentem militem dominum Cantem de Gabriellibus de Eugubio, honorabilem Potestatem civitatis Flor- entie, super infrascriptis excessibus et delictis contra infrascriptos homines et personas. Sub examine sapientis et discreti viri domini Paul! de Eugubio, ludicis ipsius domini Potestatis ad offitlum super baratteriis, iniquis extorsionibus et lucris illicitis deputati. Et de voluntate et consilio aliorum ludi- cum eiusdem domini Potestatis. Et scripte per me Bonoram de Pregio, prefati domini Potestatis notarium et ofRtialem et Communis Florentie, ad idem offitium deputatum. Currentibus annis Domini millesimo ccc ij, indictione xv, tempore sanctissimi patris domini Bonifatii pape octavi." * * *

After a voluminous recital the decree con- cludes as follows :

49

5°

"Qui Dominus Palmerius

DANTE

Orlanduccius et

Lippus citati et requisiti fuerunt legiptime, per nuntiutn Communis Florentie, ut certo termino, iam elapso, coram nobis et nostra curia comparere deberent ac venire, ipsi et quilibet ipsorum, ad parendum man- datis nostris, et ad se defendendum et excusandum ab inquisitione premissa: et non venerunt, sed potius fuerunt passi se in bapno poni Communis Florentie de libris quinque milibus florenorum parvorum pro quolibet, per Duccium Francisci publicum bampni- torem Communis eiusdem; in quod incurrerunt se contumaciter absentando, prout de predictis omnibus in actis nostre Curie plenius continetur.

" Idcirco ipsos dominum Palmerium, DANTE, Orlanduccium et Lippum, et ipsorum quemlibet, ut sate messis iuxta qualitatem seminis fructum per- cipiant, et iuxta merita commissa per ipsos dignis meritorum retributionibus munerentur, propter ip- sorum contumaciam habitos pro confessis, secundum forman iuris, Statutorum Communis et Populi civita- tis Florentie, Ordinamentorum lustitte, Reforma- tionum, et ex vigore nostri arbitrii, in libris quinque milibus florenorum parvorum pro quolibet, dandis et solvendis Camerariis Communis Florentie recipienti- bus pro ipso Communi; et quod restituant extorta inlicite probantibus illud legiptime; et quod si non solverint condempnationem infra tertiam diem, a die sententie computandam, omnia bona talis non sol- ventis publicentur vastentur et destruantur, et vastata et destructa remaneant in Communi; et si solverint

51

condempnationem predictam, ipsi vel ipsorum aliquis talis solvens nicchilominus stare debeat extra provin- ciam Tuscie ad confines duobus annis; et ut predic- torum domini Palmerii, Dante, Lippi et Orlanduccii perpetua fiat memoria, nomina eorum scribantur in Statutis Populi, et tamquam falsarii etbarattarii nullo tempore possint habere aliquod oflStium vel bene- fitium pro Communi, vel a Communi, Florentie, in civitate comitatu vel districtu vel alibi, sive condemp- nationem solverint sive non; in hiis scriptis sententia- liter condempnamus. Computato bampno in con- dempnatione presenti." * * *

Decree of January 27, 1302. From the Libro del Chiodo. See Del Lungo, DelV esilio di Dante, pp. 97-103. (DANTE SOCIETY. Tenth annual report. May 19, 1891. Cambridge: University Press. 1891. p. 48.)

The second decree being much shorter than the first, is here given in full :

" In nomine Domini, amen.

Hec est quedam condempnatio, sive condempna- tionis sententia, facta lata et promulgata per nobilem et potentem militem dominum Cantem de Gabrielli- bus de Eugubio, honorabilem Potestatem Civitatis Florentie, contra infrascriptos homines et personas. Sub examine sapientis et discreti viri domini Pauli de Eugubio, ludicis ad offitium inquirendi et procedendi contra committentes barattarias et lucra illicitadepu- tati. Et scripta per me Bonoram de Pregio, eiusdem domini Potestatis et Communis Florentie notarium, ad idem offilium deputatum. In anno Domini mil-

52

lesimo trecentesimo secundo a nativitate, tempore domini Bonifatii pape viij, indictione XV.

" Nos Cante Potestas predictus infrascriptam con- dempnationis sententiam damus et proferimus in hunc modum.

Dominum Palmerium de Altovitis.

Lippum Becche.

DANTEM ALLIGHIERII.

Orlanduccium Orlandi.

Contra quos processum est per inquisitionem ex nostro offitio et curie nostre factam super eo et ex eo, quod ad aures nostras et ipsius curie nostre prevenit, fama publica precedente, quod cum ipsi et eorum quilibet, nomine et occasione barattarium, iniquarum extorsionum et illicitorum lucrorum fuerint con- dempnati, et in ipsis condempnationibus docetur apertius, condempnationes easdem ipsi, vel eorum aliquis, termino assignato non solverint. Qui omnes et singuli per numptium Communis Florentie citati et requisiti fuerunt legiptime, ut certo termino, iam elapso, mandatis nostris parituri venire deberent, et se a premissa inquisitione protinus excusarent. Qui non venientes per Clarum Clarissimi publicum bamp- nitorem poni se in bampno Communis Florentie sub- stulerunt: in quod incurrentes eosdem assentatio contumacia innodavit, ut hec omnia nostre curie latius acta tenent. Ipsos et ipsorum quemlibet, ideo habitos ex ipsorum contumacia pro confessis, secun- dum iura, Statuta et ordinamenta Communis et Populi civitatis Florentie, Ordinamenta lustitie, et ex vigore nostri arbitrii, et omni modo et iure quibus melius possumus, ut si quis predictorum ullo tem- pore in fortiam dicti Communis pervenerit, talis per-

53

veniens igne comburatur sic quod moriatur, in hiis scriptis sententialiter condempnamus.

" Lata pronumptiata et promulgata f uit dicta con- dempnationis sententia per dominum Cantem Potes- tatem predictum pro tribunali sedentem in Consilio general! Communis Florentie, et lecta per me Bon- oram notarium supradictum, sub anno tempore et indictione predictis, die decimo mensis martii, pre- sentibus testibus ser Massaio de Eugubio et ser Ber- ardo de Camerino notario dicti domini Protestatis, et pluribus aliis in eodem Consilio existentibus."

Decree of March lo, 1302. From the Libra del Chiodo. See Del Lungo, DeW esilio di Dante, pp. 104-106.) (DANTE SOCIETY. Tenth annual report. May 19, 1891. Cambridge: University Press. 1891. P- 52.)

SOME METHODS OF BROWNING, AS ILLUSTRATED BY THE POEM OF IVAN IVANOVITCH

SOME METHODS OF BROWNING, AS ILLUSTRATED BY THE POEM OF IVAN IVANOVITCH

No person at all familiar with the poetry of our time can question the right of Robert Browning to be enrolled upon the list of the Great Masters. Some of his shorter poems, thickly inwrought with exquisite fancies, are as full of rhythmical melody, and poetic beauty as any in our language. Had he published nothing more than the gems, "Rabbi Ben Ezra," "Saul," and "Prospice," his fame would have been unquestioned and secure.

I have, however, been prejudiced somewhat against Browning from the very fact that he has written poems of such rare and transparent beauty, and that having done this, he has yet written vastly more, the meaning of which no one can discover. Were all his writings of this 57

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latter class, we would be obliged to accept them as the method in which his mind worked, and the question would then be, as suggested by the elder Weller to his son Samuel regarding mar- riage, whether it were worth while to go through so much to learn so little, as we must in the study of his more incomprehensible works. But the fact that he has written in such a lucid and beautiful style, it has seemed to me, renders him without excuse for writing in any other. Many of the inhabitants of England and America have something else to do than to study Brown- ing, but taking into account his dense and in- comprehensible style and methods, for one who proposes to understand him life is too short to accomplish anything else.

In the study of many of his alleged poems, his disciples must plunge into a vast bank of fog, where they wander about like ghosts, seek- ing for light and finding none, hearing the voices of each other, the sighing of the winds, the barking of dogs, the murmur of falling waters, and the occasional resonant tones of a great organ echoing vaguely through the dark-

59 ness, and each disciple attaching to the faint and confused sounds and echoes, and the rare gleams, not of light, but of a lesser darkness, a meaning of his own.

From some of my most valued friends, how- ever, who are enthusiastic seekers after the occult beauties of Browning, invisible to the hoi polloi, but revealed at times to the inner cir- cle of the elect, I learn that my impressions are altogether wrong, and that the reason why some of the poems of Browning are more obscure than others is owing to his wonderful faculty and power of concentration.

A great mathematician, like La Place or New- ton, is not usually a good teacher, because, in the rapid working of his mind, he skips over various intermediate steps or processes, which, to the common mind, are necessary in order to reach and grasp his conclusion. In the same way, Browning condenses into a line or two, what it might take the ordinary poet a page to express. In this process of concentration a certain amount of clearness and simplicity is lost, and the intermediate steps by which his

6o

conclusions are reached must be wrought out by patient study.

Many of us have probably seen, in the coun- try, in the days of our youth, an old-fashioned cider mill. The apples were ground into a reservoir, above which was a large screw. This screw, being turned by a long lever, slowly forced down a cover upon the contents of the reservoir. In this way the cider would gradu- ally be squeezed out of the pulpy mass; at first coming out quite freely, afterward more and more slowly as the bottom of the reservoir was approached, until, finally, its flow would stop altogether and nothing be left in the reservoir, except the skins, hulls, and seeds of the apples, substantially devoid of any moisture. I have used this somewhat rude, but familiar, simile to illustrate the mental processes of Browning in the production of certain of his poems. By the testimony of his admirers, the mind of this Master of sublimest song is originally full of the most beautiful imagery, of melody, rhythm, and all things essential to the evolution of

6i

poetry of the highest class; poems which would rank with those in which

" Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Utters his native wood notes wild."

This material is luminous from the flames of a chastened fancy and dominated by a sovereign imagination. While in this condition, he writes poems like "The Lost Leader," " Childe Ro- land," " One Word More," and " Evelyn Hope." But, appreciating that such poetry is too diffuse to be thoroughly artistic, he seizes the lever and gives the concentrating screw a turn or two. This squeezes out of the mass fancy and imagi- nation, which are the most evanescent and most easily parted with. In this condition he pro- duces poems like " Ivan Ivanovitch," devoid of fancy, but readily comprehended, and possess- ing a certain amount of poetic imagery and power. Not satisfied with the amount of con- centration thus arrived at, another turn is given to the lever, and the poetic element is entirely squeezed out. In this condition he gives us "The Ring and the Book," certain portions of

62

"The Red Cotton Night Cap Country," and other works, which will readily be recalled, con- taining much psychological research and dys- peptic power, but devoid of any of the essen- tial elements of true poetry. Even this amount of concentration, however, is not always satis- factory, and still another turn is given to the lever, which results in driving all sense out of the crude material and leaving simply a gram- matically arranged and incongruous mass of words. A piece cut from this residuum is labeled "Sordello," and published, to the endless mysti- fication of humanity. This is emphatically the piece which passeth all understanding.

|By the aid of the simile I have used, the writ- ings of Browning may be divided into four classes: first those poems of true feeling, fanci- ful, melodious, and all animate with poetic har- mony and beauty; second, those from which the beauty, fancy and imagination have been elimi- nated; third, those from which the poetry has disappeared; and fourth, those from which all beauty, fancy, melody, poetry and sense have departed. The poem of "Ivan Ivanovitch,"

63 which I have chosen to illustrate some of the methods of Browning's work, belongs, as before stated, in the second class.

Inasmuch as my readers may not have recently seen the poem of " Ivan Ivanovitch," I will give a brief synopsis of the story. Ivan is a carpen- ter, a man of sturdy independence and good character, who has among his friends one Dmitri, also a carpenter, who has a family consisting of a wife and three children. Dmitri has been from home with his wife and children for some weeks in a village about a day's journey from the hamlet where both reside, the road between the two places being mostly through an unbroken wilderness. He is about starting for home with his family, when something occurs to prevent his returning with them; so his wife and the three children set out alone in a sledge drawn by one horse, and when passing through the forest are followed by a pack of wolves. The horse, and in the sledge the wife only, in an utterly exhausted condition, reach the village, and are surrounded by the villagers, one of whom is Ivan Ivanovitch, to whom the wife pro-

64

ceeds to tell her story, which is in substance, that a pack of wolves, frantic with hunger and thirsty for blood, pursued them through the for- est; they gained upon the horse and finally jumped upon the sleigh, carrying off first one of the children, which stayed the pack for a time; but that they still continued the pursuit, carrying off another of the children, and finally, in the same way, the babe, the last. The wife represents that she fought the wolves desperately, but was unable to prevent them from seizing the children. Something in her manner of reporting the tragedy, however; her unfavorable comments upon the character of the children first carried off, and some expressions used in her excitement when telling the story, satisfy Ivan that she flung off her children one by one to the wolves in order to save her own life. He raises his carpenter's axe after she has finished her story, and, without making any comment upon it, deliberately severs her head from her body, wipes the blood from his axe and walks to his own home. This incident causes great excitement among the villagers, who at once

6s

assemble in mass meeting to discuss the situation. The legal authorities present consider the act of Ivan as murder, and that his life is forfeited, but the priest of the village, a man nearly one hundred years of age, and who has baptized and married all the villagers, and is in a way the pope of the community, expresses his own views that Ivan in his act has simply been the messenger of God; that motherhood is the high- est function and attribute of woman; that the wife should have unhesitatingly sacrificed her own life to save the lives of her children; that, as she has thus been false to her higher nature, she is a mon- ster and unworthy to live, and that the act of Ivan was an act of the highest justice and worthy of all commendation. The villagers concur in this sentiment and repair to Ivan's house, expecting; to find him in terror of a summary judgment,, instead of which he is carving some toys for the amusement of his children, and upon hearing the verdict of the community, simply responds with the statement that it could not be other- wise.

It seems to be a peculiarity of most of the

66

great poets and dramatists, that they are not crea- tive in the direction of inventing their plots. They usually take a story or legend, which is in some measure familiar to their prospective readers, and make this the thread upon which to hang their thick-coming imaginings and fan- cies. Shakespeare and the dramatists of his time took the plots of many of their plays from the Chronicles of Holinshed and Froissart, or from collections of a similar character made by the French and Italians, and the great dramatic work of Goethe simply embodied in poetic form the legend of Faust, already familiar to the Ger- man people. Browning is no exception to this general rule. It is often an interesting study to compare a finished poem with the story upon which it is based, and to see what changes in the story itself, its denouement and incidents, are made by the poet to cause it to conform to his ideas of poetic or dramatic art. By noting these modifications, we can often get some idea of the processes in the mental workshops of these great Masters. I shall not attempt at this time to give an elaborate analysis of the poem of " Ivan Ivano-

67

vitch " from any particular standpoint, but will content myself with giving from Holinshed's Chronicles the original story of " Ivan Ivano- vitch," that we may note the variations and departures therefrom by Mr. Browning in his treatment of the theme. In Holinshed the story is told as happening in the mountainous district of Wales, which, as we know, were wild and sparsely settled regions to a later date than almost any other part of the British Islands. The story is told of one Owen Ap Jones, that is, he plays the part assigned to Ivan Ivanovitch in Browning's story, and the woman who sacrifices her children to save her own life is the wife of Llewellyn Griffiths. The surname of Jones is an unusual one, less than one-half the inhabi- tants of Wales bearing this name, which fact renders it probable that the Jones of the Holin- shed legend was an ancestor of the Rev. Jenkin Lloyd Jones, the President of the Chicago Browning Club, and a diligent and enthusiastic student of the Master. Holinshed's narrative is as follows, the spelling being modernized: In the winter of this same year the good

68

King Rufus, after this sore and cruel battle, desiring to mightily augment his puissance before that the armies should again encounter together, did sojourn for certain weeks upon the shores of the bay anigh the city of Carnarvon. And upon a certain day, when he did attend to meet the heralds in the market-place, was brought before him Owen Ap Jones by the sheriff and a great concourse of people, some of whom did loudly clamor for his life, while many others walked speechless in great incertitude. Where- upon the King did demand the cause of their greediness for blood, and to know of the sin wherewith Owen Ap Jones was charged, to which the sheriff did reply in this wise:

"Most honored Majesty, Llewellyn Griffiths had a wife and children four, who were journey- ing from Cardigan, where they had kinfolk, and were riding upon two asses through the forest upon the mountain hard by. The wife and two callow children were upon one ass, which was old and very kindly, and the two boys of larger growth were upon a young ass, indued with much speed and spirit. Sud-

69

denly from the dark forest came fierce wolves in great number, which did pursue the beasts with speed and much outcry. This day, at the hour of three, came into the town the wife alone upon the young and spirited ass, and did weep and wail without ceasing that her children had been devoured by the savage beasts; wherefore Owen Ap Jones, he being of kin to her husband and his loving friend, did seek of her the story of her dire calamity. Thereupon related she that, because her first-born son was brave and unwisely bold, when the wolves did press upon them, he did unmount from the ass and attacked them with his boar spear; but in vain, for incon- tinently was he devoured. At which sudden chance, his brother foolishly and recklessly ad- ventured after him, and likewise perished mis- erably. For a little space the wolves were thus stayed, fighting and feasting fiendishly over the brave first-born lads. Then took she the nimble ass and her two babes, and with an infinite deal of speed fled before the ravening fiends, but still they hasted sharply upon her, and the foremost wolf pitilessly snatched from her arms one, and

70

anon the other babe, whereby her bereavement was greater than she could bear, and she wailed sorely and said, ' Owen Ap Jones, my husband his friend, gladly would I die and be at rest rather than meeting loved Llewellyn weeping for our children perished miserably.' Then up spake Owen Ap Jones, ' Woman, why sendest thou thy first-begotten children to perish un- timely?' To which she: 'I did it not. More- over, they ceaselessly quarreled and tried me grievously, and dearer to me were my loving babes.' Then again said Owen, 'Woman, why gavest thou these babes to the gaunt wolves that thine own life might not be forfeit?' To which she: *I did it not. Furthermore, here standeth the priest, who will bear witness for me. By him was I wedded to Llewellyn my spouse, and before him made I my marriage vows, that I would be a true and loyal wife, and that, leaving all others, I would cleave to Llewellyn alone until grim death should take me to his arms. How could I cleave to Llewellyn if the fierce beasts devoured my body?' Then Owen Ap Jones bared his head of its wolfskin gear, and

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bowing down, he said, ' It is as I divined. The fear of God is upon me, and I must do his behest.' Then quickly raised he his woodman's axe, and with one mighty blow he cleaved the woman's head in twain."

Thus the sheriff, and for a brief space the King spake not, and then he said, "Sheriff, thou art wise in the wisdom which pertaineth to the law, what sayest thou?" and the sheriff answered, " Owen Ap Jones his hands are red with blood. His life is forfeit to the King; let him be hanged upon an oaken tree, or, manacled, labor until death in the copper mines of Carnarvon." Then said the King, "What sayest thou, O Priest?" and the priest answered, "The man is a blasphemer and stained with sin; to the anoint- ed priest alone it is to act as the vicegerant of God. Whoso sheds man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." Then the King took in his arms a shepherd's little child, and said, "My little one, what sayest thou?" and the child answered, " My mother would not give me to the hungry wolves."

Then up spoke the King in a loud voice:

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"Oh, blind leaders of men, it is as of old, that wisdom Cometh from the lips of sucklings and of babes. Know you not that to woman it is given to bear and to rear children for her hus- band and the realm; that not one of the she wolves of whom this woman spake betimes but would die for her whelps, and that Owen but cut down a witch and a devil, who should no longer cumber the earth? Owen Ap Jones, thou art a just man and my brother. Leave thy woodman's axe, and take this spear and bull's hide shield. Henceforth thou art the captain of a hundred men and shalt have forsooth broad acres of the lands, of which anon I will despoil mine enemies."

Thus Holinshed.

We observe that, in a general way, Browning has adhered to the legend as told by Holinshed, although he has transferred the scene to Russia, where such an incident would to-day seem less improbable than elsewhere.

In comparing the story as told by Browning with the legend, we note three characteristics of the poet, which are illustrated by his method of

73 telling the story; his republicanism, his dramatic instinct, and his habit of passing over the inter- mediate steps in reaching a conclusion. Holin- shed, whose chronicles are largely the doings of kings, nobles, and warrior knights, so disposes his facts as to make King Rufus the central fig- ure, and to make conspicuous his sagacity, wisdom, and justice; but Browning's sturdy democracy is illustrated by his suppression of the monarch altogether, and by his bringing to the front the heroism and instinctive justice of the common people. Our admiration goes out to the lowly carpenter and the humble priest. Again, Browning is a born dramatist. The most dramatic portion of the story is perhaps the long-drawn agony of the flight from the wolves; the alternation of hopes and fears, as one after another of the children perish, thus delaying the pack and awakening anew, again and again, the vain hope of escaping with the rest. In Holinshed, this portion of the story is told in a few graphic words, but Browning expands and makes much of it in his rendition of the legend. On the other hand, he largely suppresses the

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trial scene, wherein is sought to be established the guilt or innocence of the man and woman, the dramatis personae of the story. Holinshed gives in full the arguments of the sheriff, the priest, and the shepherd's child, together with the reasoning of the king, when pronouncing the verdict of the man's justification and the woman's guilt. Browning, however, noting the woman's disparaging criticism of her dead chil- dren, and coupling this with the fact that she is alive and her children are dead, passes over all intermediate reasoning; he calls for no proof of her guilt, finally and conclusively established as it is to him, from the evidence of her savage, weak, and unwomanly nature.

LINES TO LAKE GENEVA

LINES TO LAKE GENEVA

Words attributed to Nathaniel K. Fairbank. Music by Frederick W. Root.

Nestled amid thy circling bluffs,

Thy banks all clad in palest green, In May, when first I visit thee,

And view thy waters' silvery sheen, The springtime's breath is in the air.

The trees pulsate with newborn life, — I say, some other months are fair.

But May is first in friendly strife. The grass is green upon the hills.

The lawns are bright with daffodils; All things new, sweet, and fresh are here.

And May is queen of all the year.

Time runs his course and ushers in The ever-welcome month of June;

The perfume of uncounted flowers. The melody of birds in tune

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The richer verdure of the trees, The balmy air by day and night,

Combine to pleasure every sense, And make a scene of pure delight.

I say, of months the year has known, June is unrivaled and alone.

I leave the city's stifling glare,

When fierce July its advent makes. And seek thy shores, forever fair.

Oh smiling Queen of all the lakes. The summer's breath is tempered here,

The languors of this summer sea Drive every grief and care away.

And make all hours from trouble free. I say, for pure, luxurious rest,

July, of all the months, is best.

Soon Autumn mirrors in thy breast. The glories of October hours.

The crimson splendor of the trees, The golden beauty of the flowers.

Fringed gentian and the goldenrod, In the bright sunshine fleck the sod.

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Each month to thee new vesture brings, October bears the robes of kings;

All vestments else, severe or gay, Are unto these as night to day.

The year's drear close is drawing nigh,

December comes with stormy sky; The feathery snow falls flake by flake

Upon the bosom of the lake. Pearl-bordered are the tinkling rills,

And ermine clad are all the hills. No other month has seemed to me,

Type of such stainless purity. Each passing month has lessons taught,

Each has its pain and pleasure brought, But the year's ending is sublime —

December is the gem of Time.

As some fair maiden, coy and sage. The daughter of a golden age,

The radiant queen of all the earth. Which glories that it gave her birth;

As, smiling, she the most doth shine; As, pensive, is still more divine —

8o

Whate'er emotion marks her brow, Or thrills her happy, loving breast,

Her reign 's an ever-present now, And every hour her regal best.

So Thou, Lake of my constant love,

To praise alone my tongue can move. Spring brings its freshness and its showers,

Summer its wealth of leaves and flowers; Autumn, with splendors never told,

Decks thee in crimson and in gold; And winter robes thee all in white,

Adorns with pearls and crystals bright — Each month is perfect in its time,

And every day thy golden prime.*

When Put and Call and Bull and Bear Furrow the brow and blanch the hair;

When wheat a ten-cent drop has had, And lard is going to the bad;

*Mr. Fairbank states that this ode was written at his Lake Geneva home, except the final stanza, which was produced after his return to Chicago, thus accounting for the different spirit which pervades the closing stanza.

8i

When " Fairy " soap no more will sell,

And Kirk all round is raising hell; Behind I leave the city's roar,

And seek thy sweet and tranquil shore; And, floating on thy silvery breast,

I taste the joys of heavenly rest. And let, if you'll excuse the slang,

The Board and all the Boys "go hang.'*

HEROISM COMMEMORATED

HEROISM COMMEMORATED

Address delivered at the unveili?ig of the monu- ment erected in Haymarket Square, Chicago, in commemoration of the heroic acts of the police force when attacked by a mob of anarchists, May 4, 1886. Monument un- veiled May JO, i88g.

May 4, 1886, was a gloomy day in our history. Turbulent acts had occurred at several points within the city, and in the evening, upon the spot where we are standing, was an excited mul- titude listening to inflammatory harangues. A body of police came upon the ground to guard against possible disorder; a bomb was exploded; pistols were fired; blood was shed; lives were lost; the crowd was dispersed and order was restored. One of the consequences of this inci- dent is the assemblage here to-day and the dedi- cation of this monument. Had the occasion, 85

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however, been simply a conflict between the guardians of public order and an ordinary mob the occurrence would have deserved and would have received no such commemoration as this day has brought forth. It is because the out- break and consequent events represented a con- flict of ideas and principles that it became a matter of world-wide interest and formed an epoch in the history of Chicago and the Nation. Four hundred years ago the Supreme Being is represented by Emerson as saying, through the discoveries of Columbus:

" Lo, I uncover the land Which I hid of old time in the West, As the sculptor uncovers his statue When he has wrought his best."

Here was a new continent, unhampered by traditions or royal lines, where man might hope to work out new theories and methods of gov- ernment which should work for the greatest happiness of the people. The highest achieve- ment of civilization consists in securing to every man the fruits of his labor and the freedom to labor and to sell his labor or ability in whatever

87 way he deems most to his advantage. Some form of government is indispensable, and that government is best which least interferes with the individual and which takes from him for its support the smallest percentage of his earnings. The more advanced nations of the Old World are still burdened with vast national debts, mostly incurred for the founding or upholding of certain dynasties, or for other matters in which the people have no interest. They are burdened, too, with the support of standing armies, in which a large proportion of the active young men of each nation are compelled to serve for the best years of their lives, substan- tially without compensation, and are supported in idleness by taxes laid upon the remainder of the people.

These oppressions are so great that we witness and have witnessed for a generation past con- stant emigration from those countries to this favored land, where the newcomers realize that they are freed from the crushing burdens resting upon them in their fatherlands. The colonial period of our history represents the boyhood of

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the Nation. For nearly two centuries our ances- tors were putting off the traditions and limita- tions which they had inherited from the peoples and dynasties of the Old World. They came of age, won their independence, and, one hun- dred years ago, organized the first Government by the people and for the people, of continental magnitude, which the world had known.

Would the experiment be successful? Could a people govern themselves when spread over a continent with varying climates, conditions, and industries? These were the questions to be answered. We ourselves answered them one month ago this day by a jubilee from Maine to the far-off coast of Oregon; by rejoicings which were participated in not alone by our own people, but by the lovers of liberty in all lands; by praise to Him who holds in His invisible hand the destinies of men, in a paean which followed the sun in its course around the earth, and ascended in world-wide chorus from every con- tinent and from the islands of the sea. But these same questions were answered in the nega- tive by the political writers of all the older

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nations, who insisted that a government by the people could never be maintained except in a small nationality and among a homogeneous people. They said, in so vast a country, the interests of some States would be maritime; some, commercial; some, agricultural; some in the line of manufacturing. They predicted three sources of fatal weakness in our Government; that diverse interests in a wide continent would cause certain States to ally themselves with for- eign nations in case of a foreign war; that a civil war would destroy our people from conflict- ing interests among the States themselves; and that if the country survived these trials the growth in wealth and population would give rise to classes and a servile war.

The test of our experiment went on. We passed through wars with foreign nations tri- umphantly, and the first question was settled. Twenty-eight years ago came the test of the sec- ond question, the sectional strife. Many among us can remember how, for the integrity of the Great Republic, a million peaceful citizens left their homes, took up arms, and went forth to do

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battle that government by the people might not perish. We remember, too, how scarcely a household in the broad land but was a house of mourning; how saddened millions, crape clad, bewailed the slaughter of husbands, fathers, lovers, sons; how every great river flowed sol- emnly onward to the sea, red with the dearest and costliest blood of the Nation. Government by the people came forth from the conflict strengthened and with a new and abounding life.

But with the rapid growth of the Nation in wealth, prosperity, and population, with the ag- gregation of a miscellaneous people in our large cities, came the test of the third warning of the prophets of evil. Differences described by the absurd phrase, " The conflict of capital and labor," assumed momentous importance. Well-meaning people, troubled by the broad disparity in conditions of life, which thus far seems inseparable from our imperfect humanity, were joined by dangerous and criminal dema- gogues who denounced the existing order of things, and even clamored for the destruction

91 of all government. The right of revolution, whereby a majority of the people modify or overturn one form of government and substi- tute another therefor is sacred. But this princi- ple affords no protection to the enemies of all government; to the apostles of anarchy and disorder. A government instituted and carried forward by the people themselves, and deriving all its powers from the consent of the governed should be modified only by the methods of peace, by laboring for a change in public opin- ion, which is prompt to remedy a proved evil. Under a government by the people, any man who takes arms in his hands and goes forth to commit deeds of violence for the purpose of remedying what seems to him an unjust law; any person who counsels such acts of violence and advocates measures which may lead to the shedding of blood is simply a murderer, an out- law, an enemy of mankind, and one who puts in peril all the precious heritage of our one hun- dred years of national life. Our country stands to-day the sole guardian of all that is most val- uable of the results of human endeavor. It is

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the trustee for the human race of the principles of free government, of the right and power of the people to govern themselves, of the right of freedom in the pursuit of happiness, won through uncounted ages of struggle and of toil. No portion of the civilized world will relapse into a condition of anarchy. Some form of government will exist. If a government by the people is not sufficiently strong and vital to pre- serve the public order, to protect human life, and to assure to its subjects the safe possession of their own, a strong, central government will necessarily be established. With this will come, should such a necessity be forced upon us as a people, the standing armies, the oppressive tax- ation, and the burdens grievous to be borne, to escape which, ourselves or our ancestors left homes in the Old World, sacrificing much that was most dear and precious, to aid in founding and perpetuating a government by the people. Those who would sanction courses which would make such results possible, claim to be actuated by sympathy for the laboring poor, but upon these same people would fall the greatest bur-

93

dens of the changed affairs. From among them come the men who make up the great armies of the Old World. It is their blood which is poured out like water in times of war. They, above all others, are interested in the preserva- tion of peace and order. It should be borne in mind that apostles of anarchy do not propose a modification of existing laws and institutions, but a wholesale destruction by violence and a throttling of all law. History would, as always, repeat itself; violence would beget violence, and crime would beget crime. All the powers and forces of evil would come again and inaugurate anew the reign of Chaos and Old Night.

There is an expression we often hear in the discussion of social problems, "The laboring classes," which has no place in America. We all belong to the laboring class. We have no other class. We all labor in our various ways. The millionaires of thirty or forty years hence will be men who are now working for a dollar or two per day, just as the millionaires of to-day are men who, thirty or forty years ago, worked for fifty and seventy-five cents per day. We

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have rich men and poor men, but there is a constant passing from one class to the other, and the door is always open. This fact is the reason why the evil prophecies of the Old World sages have come to naught. They ranked our laborers with the Helots of Greece, the rab- ble of Rome, the serfs of Russia; people for whom the future held no gleam of hope.

Upon this spot, three years ago, it was demon- strated that the new peril which had arisen to the government by the people, was naught in the presence of a public sentiment as omnipo- tent as it was sublime. Certain people, mostly foreigners of brief residence among us, whose ideas of government were derived from their experience in despotic Germany, sought by means of violence and murder to inaugurate a carnival of crime. They took advantage of a time of agitation among honest workingmen and sought to commit them to their infernal scheme. It is worthy of note, however, that among the heroes who periled their lives to thwart the conspiracy of these criminals, while some were Americans to the manor born, many

95

were men who had come to us from lands be- yond the sea, who sought among us that free- dom to the preservation of which they conse- crated their lives; sons who loved the land of their adoption with a passionate loyalty and devotion.

It is to the glory of Chicago that the enemies of public order were as chaff before a consum- ing fire. The civil authorities were represented by a police force of unexcelled heroism; by a detective force, which, under Bonfield and Schaack, laid bare all the details of an infamous conspiracy; by a prosecuting attorney, whom no intimidations could swerve from the path of duty; by a judge, who, undaunted by threats, held aloft, with an even poise, the scales of jus- tice; by a jury of the people, who saw clearly and well the vital principles which lay behind the overt acts. All these instrumentalities illus- trated that government by the people was tri- umphant, and equal to any emergency. The voice of all, rich and poor alike, has spoken with no uncertain sound of its adherence to the principles of peace and of its utter condemna-

96

tion of those who would resort to methods of violence for the accomplishment of a fancied good.

There are crises in the world's affairs when immortal fame comes in a single hour to those whom opportunity has blest. The heroes who made up the little group of embattled farmers, which stood in the highway at Concord and fired the shot heard round the world, were no whit braver, nor more loyal than thousands of their compatriots in the old Bay State; but it was theirs to inaugurate the struggle which re- sulted in the birth of a Nation, and the echoes of that firing shall never die away,

Greece could have furnished numerous bands of 300 men equally brave and patriotic as that of Leonidas; but the heroism of this Spartan band, whose fortune it was to stand in the pass at Thermopylae, and to check the mighty flood of Oriental barbarism, which, under Xerxes, sought the life of Grecian civilization, by this happy chance shall live forever,

•* Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men."

97

We stand to-day upon another spot, which a crisis in man's progress has made historic. Three years ago, May 4th, an excited audience was here, listening to speakers who counseled acts of violence and crime. A force of police- men, under the command of the gallant Bon- field, a name long to be remembered and hon- ored, came forward as guardians of the public peace. The entire force consisted of seven companies under the command of Captains Bonfield and Ward, each company commanded by its own Lieutenant, and the seven compa- nies containing in all 176 men. Five compa- nies, those of Lieutenants Quinn, Steele, Stan- toi^. Bowler, and Hubbard, our present efficient Chief, and numbering in all 120 men, were in the advance. Close behind were the companies of Lieutenants Penzon and Beard. They halted and, in the name of the law, commanded the riotous assemblage to disperse.

Suddenly, and without warning, the fatal bomb was thrown into their midst, followed by a discharge from revolvers in the hands of the mob. Sixty-seven men from the force in an in-

98

stant were killed or wounded. In a conversa- tion with a gallant officer, who had served with distinction through the War of the Rebellion, he stated that he had never known or heard of an instance where so large a proportion of an attacking force had been disabled without re- sulting in its demoralization and retreat. But no such thought entered the minds of the brave heroes of the Hay market horror. The echo of the explosion had scarcely died away when the voices of Bonfield and Fitzpatrick rang out like a clarion, rallying their men to the unequal combat. Under the constant fire of the mob the lines were formed, the charge was made upon ten times their number, and the crowd was dispersed. Every policeman who was in the affray was a hero; every man had in him the material of which are made martyrs in the cause of duty.

One company — that of the heroic Lieutenant Stanton, where, out of eighteen men, one was instantly killed and sixteen were wounded — rallied immediately and was at the front in the pursuit of the retreating rioters. Equally valiant

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was the command of Lieutenant Bowler, where nineteen out of twenty-six men were wounded. It were vain to particularize where every one present earned our abiding gratitude. But there were certain of these men who bowed be- fore the imperious mandate of death — who have been borne to their rest in the equal grave — whom we must especially bear in remembrance — Degan, Miller, Barrett, Flavin, Sheehan, Hansen, Redden, Sullivan — martyrs and heroes all, to whom the municipality renders that hom- age which ennobles death. They are of those whose lives have been given to preserve the costly treasure of free government. No history of our State but will perpetuate the memory of those murdered heroes. Impartial fame will have them in her jealous care.

PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY AND SONS COMPANY AT THE LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL.

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